Sinking In
by Eshe Returned
Summary: Casidhe Sue Phillips is a first year at Hogwarts...at sixteen.
1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Disclaimer:** This story is based off of the wonderful world of Harry Potter which belongs to JKR and WB etcetera, and the title of the chapters also don't actually belong to me. Nothing you recognize does.

**A/N:** This story is complete for the moment, but I plan to revisit it, and yes, this is an OC at Hogwarts fic, so turn back now if you're not into that.

**Chapter 1: Down the Rabbit Hole**

I'd been walking for ten miles when a man named Roger Dalton stopped and asked me if I needed a ride. He was heading into London, he told me. He was a nice seeming man, and his tweed suit reminded me of one in my father's closet. My parents were out at meetings for the weekend, and I'd always wanted to visit London, and this might be my only chance. It's rare for both of my parents to be gone so long at the same time. So, I went to go around the car to climb in, but before I could open the passenger side door, I bent over double; I thought I was going to hurl. I wish I could say that sort of thing was unusual for me, but it happened startlingly often. My mom used to call me her little Caller ID, because sometimes I seemed to know when someone was going to call, and could guess who it was, but once in awhile, I'd see more than just the next call. Once in a while, I'd see a lot of images, flashing by so fast they would make me physically ill. That's what happened that day. Mr. Dalton hopped out of his car and helped me to the side of the road, brushing my hair out of my face. It was right after seeing the last image flash (a girl several feet in the air and screaming in an eerie shrill) that I looked up to tell Mr. Dalton I was okay, and that's when I saw a person flying over the tree tops across the road. Naturally, I thought I was hallucinating after my attack, but the red hair had been so vivid. Roger Dalton offered to take me to a physician, or at least drive me home, but I politely refused, and almost as if pulled by an invisible rope, I found myself wandering towards the tree line where I had seen the red hair on blue sky.

"Ginny! Throw it here! I'm open!" shouted a tall redhead with about a million freckles.

I stared at them. There were five redheads and a black-haired boy, and they were all flying on broomsticks. They didn't notice me at first. I rubbed my eyes a couple times. It was when I sat down to try to regain my sanity that they took notice, and I realized I wasn't hallucinating. One of the redheaded boys nearly fell off the broom he'd been riding when he spotted me. Him and the rest landed not even two seconds later, and they proceeded to gawk at me for several minutes. I subconsciously moved a loose strand of green hair behind my ear. It felt odd that _they_ should be staring at me. I could only assume it was my died-green bangs and the bracelets covering much of my right forearm causing their goldfish impressions.

"What, you've never seen a brunette before?" I quipped after several moments, getting testy with all the staring. That's when a bushy-haired brunette made it over, dragging a balding man (with more red hair) behind her.

"Hello. My name is Arthur Weasley, and I am an inventor," he said in what seemed a very rehearsed little speech as he offered his hand to me to shake.

I didn't take it. "Well, hi Mr. Weasley. I'm Casidhe Phillips," I stared at the brooms that had been carefully shifted to hide behind backs, "and I think that you are lying." Mr. Weasley began to stutter and stammer and blush until he was finally rescued by a plump woman (also with red hair) who came with a smile and a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and introduced herself as Molly Weasley. I immediately liked her, and she didn't try to lie to me.

"Well, dear, I'm not sure how you got past the wards we set up to keep out Muggles, but it's not safe for you to go about with knowledge of the magical world right now. Can you stay until I can contact Dumbledore? It wouldn't do at all for you to remember this little Quidditch match."

She didn't wait for my answer, but immediately began to reprimand, who I could only presume to be her children. There was something about not flying above the treetops and de-knoming, but it was difficult to catch most of what she said. She talked fast, and half of what she said was in some language I'd never heard of before. The other half didn't make sense anyway. After several minutes, some ear-pulling, and the disbanding of the little troop that had gathered around me, she shot a bunch of silver junk out of this wooden stick thing, and she started to hustle me into what looked like a very unstable, large-ish, stone pig pen, insisting that it wasn't safe for me to be out of doors if the wards weren't working. I tried to insist that I would feel much safer outside than in the building that looked like it would fall over at any minute, but she kept bustling me along.

I was trying to think of a way to escape and phone for help when an extremely old man with long silver hair, a matching beard, and a blackened hand appeared out of nowhere. He frightened me so that I turned invisible, also not the first time that happened to me. A couple times, when I'd been really scared, I'd done it before. My parents hadn't believed it had actually happened the one time I'd done it in front of them when dad spooked me in his Halloween costume, and I'd pretty much left it alone. The only other time it happened was when I got cornered in an alley while we were living in New York City.

"I think we can safely assume the wards are working, Molly," chortled the old man with a gleam in his eyes. "What is your name miss?"

"Casidhe Phillips, but most people call me Cassy." His piercing stare seemed to send a tingle into my brain, which I instinctively recoiled against, trying to make it stop, which seemed to amuse him.

"Ms. Phillips, I am Headmaster at Hogwarts, Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and it is my pleasure to meet you. Have you been living here in Britain very long?"

That was quite a name, I thought, and I'd intended to say so, but instead: "About three months. I live about ten miles from here on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, almost to Ottery St. Mary."

He smiled, "And, may I inquire as to where you had been living before three months ago?"

Once again, my tongue felt as if it was going to bypass my brain and spill my entire life story, so I took care to respond cautiously, "America." This seemed to amuse him even more.

"Ms. Phillips, you are an astute young lady, so I shall be direct. It's been known to happen once in awhile, even at Hogwarts, but it seems The Quill at Hadifax, the American Wizarding school, failed to record your birth, so you were not invited to train as you should have been when you turned eleven. You are a witch, Ms. Phillips, and with that said, I would like to formally invite you to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry should you so choose, since you are now living in Britain."

I stared at him wordlessly.

"Yes, I understand this is quite a bit to take in. Perhaps you would accept some tea while I discuss particulars? Molly makes an excellent cup."

I started to shake my head no, but then I remembered my attack of flashes earlier, and in that instant, I decided that knowing was better than not knowing. Besides, it sounded like it could be I was in for an incredible adventure. No one had shut up about all this "danger" I was in since I'd wandered onto the paddock.

Professor Dumbledore talked for what felt like hours. The more he talked about magic and wizards and spells, the more I began to have the distinct feeling I was dreaming. That's when he called the skinny, black-haired kid with a funny scar on his head. I learned that his name was Harry Potter, and like me, he hadn't known about magic until he was older. He had been eleven when some half-giant named Hagrid had told him.

"Look, I amsixteen, and _way _too old for obnoxious stories," I said when I'd finished listening to them talk. I hugged my arms to my chest. "Maybe I should just go home. This was a mistake. I thought..." I couldn't quite finish the sentence because I wasn't sure what I had been thinking. I hadn't been expecting them to weave such a fantastic tale, although I suppose I should have guessed when the old man told me I was a witch. They were all, clearly, quite insane. It was at that exact thought that I had another attack of flashes. Doubled over, I saw myself holding a wand, wearing robes with a blue and bronze striped tie, a blonde girl with no shoes feeding some very frightening looking creature, a centaur kneeling on a mossy floor, and finally, a blonde boy bleeding in a bathroom. Once the attack passed, I looked into the electric blue eyes filled with concern, staring at me, and I gulped. "It's all real isn't it?" In two seconds my entire world had been tipped end over end.


	2. Persuasion

**Chapter 2: Persuasion**

I realized about two seconds after Mr. Weasley took me home that there was no way I was going to be able to buy all the school supplies Mrs. Weasley had mentioned unless my parents were on my side. I had a little bit of allowance saved up, and Dumbledore had mentioned a fund if my parents were opposed to me attending Hogwarts, but while I really did want to go, I could never accept his charity, and there was no way I could leave my parents if they decided they wanted me to stay, so I decided to spend the rest of the day cleaning, and then most of the next day as well. Then, I cooked dinner so that it would be ready when my parents got home from their meetings.

My mom walked in the door first. She noticed the clean house and the dinner on the table, and she warily kissed me on the cheek.

"Cassy, is there something I might need to know?"

My mom was used to my antics. Just a few weeks earlier I'd gotten my tongue pierced. When I came home after that, I'd unpacked a few of the boxes that she still hadn't gotten to and dusted some knickknacks. The day before they'd left on this business trip, I'd cleaned all the windows after coming home with a fat lip from fighting with some prick who tried to cop-a-feel at a pub. I can only imagine the horrific images that must have started to reel through her mind when she realized the entire house had been cleaned, table set (with the fine linen cloth and Grandma Sue's good china), and dinner cooked.

Before I could direct mom to the table, dad walked in. He paused for about a whole minute in the entrance to our dining room before finally following mom and I to the table, wearing a wary smile. I served them, causing them both to furtively share fearful looks and wide eyes.

After giving them a few minutes to eat a little, I let them know that my world had changed. "Mom, Dad. I'm a witch...like the magical kind."

They both stared at me for several seconds and then each other, and then, when they looked back at me, my mom said, "Sweetie, are you feeling okay?"

I rolled my eyes and decided to forge on. "Look Mom, there's this school called Hogwarts, and I met with the Headmaster today, and he says they'll train me. They're going to cover the tuition since they feel I'm owed it because most magical children start training at eleven, but I fell through the cracks. I just need some money to buy supplies."

My mom leaned forward to feel my forehead and dad went to grab his cellphone from his briefcase in order to call the doctor. I had thought Professor Dumbledore was a lunatic when he first told me too, but I'd refused his help explaining to my parents. I decided to try a different tactic.

"Mom, you know how you say it's really hard, telecommuting all the time so that you can homeschool me? Well, Hogwarts is a sort of boarding school. You'll be able to go into the office, and you won't have to worry about me." I tried to put things firmly into a realm that she would understand. She didn't take it well.

"Honey...? Is this just an elaborate way to say that you want to go to a boarding school? You know I don't mind staying home with you when I can, and don't you remember the reason I started homeschooling you in the first place? It was so hard for you when we'd move so often and you'd have to find a new school. You don't want to go through that again do you?"

"Mom, I'm serious, Hogwarts is a school for witches and wizards, and I've thought it through. I want to go. They can teach me to control the flash attacks."

I knew if I could convince my mom then dad would follow suit. He was listening quietly to everything, but I could tell he wasn't buying a word. Mom looked at him, and she was agreeing with him with her eyes.

I sighed. I'd never have believed any of it either, even though I'd seen it with my own eyes. If I hadn't been able to "see" (that's what Professor Dumbledore had called it) I would probably still be insisting the old man was a lunatic.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but just think about it for a minute. Dad, do you remember when you scared me at Halloween when I was eight? I turned invisible. You weren't seeing things. That was magic. And mom, you know how you call me your little Caller ID? Knowing that someone is going to call is a part of a branch of magic called Divination. Do you guys remember when I was six and you made me go to that slumber party in Denver...how I cried so loud you heard me eight miles away? That was magic. You've got to believe me. I'm not making any of this up, and Professor Dumbledore says Hogwarts can help me learn to control it and harness it." I left out the part where I felt like it would be quite the adventure. My parents felt that at sixteen I'd already had too many adventures since I seemed to get into trouble anytime they left me alone for even a few hours.

My mom looked me over critically. I could tell she was looking for signs of outward trauma. It's not the easiest thing to accept...one's world tipping over to where magic suddenly exists beyond Disney. I put on my very best begging pout and mom shook her head a little. I wasn't sure if that meant she was starting to believe or telling me no.

"Mom?"

"I don't understand why you're being like this. Did something happen this weekend? We know that you've done drugs before. Did you get into a bad crowd...find something...laced?" She almost choked on the word. "What's wrong? Your father and I can't help unless--"

"Mom! I'm telling the truth!" I interrupted, yelling. I took a few breaths when she scowled at me, and I managed to be calmer when I said, "Look...Friday, I went out to walk around, and I was going to hitchike into London," I rushed on when mom looked like she might interrupt, "but I had an attack...a bad one, and afterwards I saw someone flying above the treetops, so I went to investigate, and I met the Weasleys, a family of witches and wizards, Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Hermione, a Muggleborn witch, and this Harry Potter guy, a wizard who's famous or something."

Mom sat down and started to rub her temples. She sighed before whispering, "Muggleborn?"

"Someone who's not magical." I grabbed my arms across my chest, looking down at my toes. This wasn't going well. "Mom, do you want me to get you an aspirin? I know this is a lot to take in." My dad was rubbing her shoulders, and she waved me off.

"Honey, your mom and I just need a little time to process. How about you go to bed, and we'll discuss this more in the morning."

I nodded silently and made my way up the stairs to my room. Not long after I got there, an owl flew in and perched in the window. Mr. Weasley had explained to me all about owl post. I carefully approached the bird and snatched the envelope from its beak, backing away quickly once I had, watching the bird take off. I opened the seal on the parchment envelope and found my formal Hogwarts letter and list of supplies and another envelope with "Do Not Open!" scrawled across it. Looking at the letter, I almost felt like just sneaking out, going to the Weasleys and going to Hogwarts, with or without my parents' permission, but I couldn't do it. What if they moved again? They wouldn't know how to contact me. I'd get left behind. I wasn't exaggerating when I told mom I'd thought my decision through, but that didn't stop me from being afraid. If I got there and things worked out, and then one of them got called back to the states or something...

I read the list of supplies, distracting myself from my musings. Professor Dumbledore had briefly explained to me about wands and how they focus the magic, but I'd never had a wand before, and I'd done magic anyway. What if I could somehow do magic on command without one? Maybe then I could convince my parents to let me go.

I concentrated really hard and tried to will myself to become invisible.

The next morning, I disappeared for my parents for half a second, and that evening, Arthur Weasley came back to check on me...just like he'd promised. My parents let me go with him.


	3. A Whole New World

**Chapter 3: A Whole New World**

Tuesday morning, Mrs. Weasley took me to Diagon Alley in London. It was strange to think that less than a week earlier, I'd wanted to come to London, and I'd been prepared for a long hitchiking journey to get there, and days later, a two-second ride in a fireplace had transported me to a part of London that most people didn't even know existed. Our first stop was to Gringotts to change my Muggle money, but directly afterwards Mrs. Weasley took me to Ollivander's. When we got there, Mr. Ollivander was fitting a round-faced boy named Neville with a new wand. I was glad I got to see him go first because otherwise, sending a whole shelf clattering to the floor with the first wand Mr. Ollivander brought out would have been much more traumatizing.

Mr. Ollivander explained to me about the wand's core after Neville left, and then he brought out a five inch oak wand with a unicorn hair feather. I waved it around as I had seen Neville do about twenty times, and the shelf in front of me blew into pieces. If I hadn't seen Mr. Ollivander grin several times at Neville as the boy blew up a shelf, a jar of ink, and a stack of parchment, I would have been worried, but Mr. Ollivander seemed resigned to the explosions, and even happy about it after my third wand and a rather spectacular shower of ceiling. The fourth wand he brought out was a really whippy wand of about ten inches in beech that had a dragon heartsring core.

"Let's see, how about this one," Mr. Ollivander handed me the wand.

I waved it, and a string of fire briefly shot out of the tip, igniting a whole slew of shelves. Mr. Ollivander actually giggled a little at that before putting it out and muttering, "Getting close...I think I know...very good for...whippy..."

He brought out the fifth wand then. He'd been going progressively deeper into the shop with each choice. This wand was another whippy one, seven inches, made of maple with a Phoenix tail feather core. I knew as soon as I held it that this was the one. The handle seemed molded to my fingers, and warmth shot up my arm as I gave it a wave. Green sparks danced from the end and stayed suspended briefly, flittering in front of my eyes. Mr. Ollivander's eyes were shining.

"Ah...a beautiful fit. This is an excellent wand for someone new to magic. There's so much potential for learning, and this wand works so well in so many disciplines."

I raised an eyebrow but managed to keep my tongue in check. I could have told him that I've never been very good in school, but why ruin his fun?

From Ollivander's Mrs. Weasley bustled me to several other shops, gathering the remaining supplies from my list. We only just made it back to the Burrow in time to open the envelope that I was not supposed to open. Professor Dumbledore explained to me that in the envelope was a shoelace that was a Portkey, and it would take me to his Hogwarts office at exactly three o'clock.

When we arrived, I immediately sat opposite of the Headmaster, staring somewhat woozily at the shoelace he'd placed on his desk, and he offered me a lemon drop, which I thought was peculiar, but decided to indulge in. He took an old, ragged hat off a shelf then and handed it to me.

"There are four houses in Hogwarts. You will participate in classes, live in dormitories, and cheer for Quidditch (or not) with your fellow house mates for the rest of your journey here. The houses are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. This hat is very old, a possession of Godric Gryffindor, one of the house founders, and it has been bewitched with the ability to sort you into a house. Each founder valued different traits, so the hat sorts you based on what it sees inside of you, and whichever traits are most dominant.

I thought my eyeballs were going to leave my skull when a tear near the brim opened up and the tatty, old thing began to speak...or rather...sing. It decided to test out its new Sorting Song on me. After the hat finished singing about the founders, the houses, and sticking together in tough times, Professor Dumbledore smiled at me, almost giddy from above his steepled, and on one hand damaged fingers, and then he indicated that I should put the hat on, so, reluctantly, I did.

"Ah, Cassy, you're very guarded, but I see a rebellious streak here. You could do well in Slytherin, but there's something else here...a great potential for learning. You have a brain for knowledge. You would do well in Ravenclaw as well."

I glared at the inside of the hat. That Gryffindor fellow must have had a huge head.

"Godric did indeed, but you seem displeased. I see here also a proficiency in Divination. You would do very well in Slytherin with that gift. It can be used in so many ways for those who are skilled, and--"

"Look, as you've noticed, I can do this Divination thing, so I've already seen myself wearing Hogwarts robes in blue and bronze. I know that means Ravenclaw. That Potter kid explained it to me, so why don't we skip the small...whatever and just sort me into Ravenclaw? I don't understand it, but why mess with the future right?"

"With that impatience," the hat sighed into her head, "very well then. Ravenclaw!" the hat said aloud, less boisterously than it usually might, since the Headmaster was the only other person in the room and the office was small compared to the Great Hall.

I took the hat off, rolling my eyes and then looking at the smiling, twinkling Professor. "What?"

"Nothing at all," Dumbledore smirked, "Professor Flitwick will show you to your dormitory, and he'll be helping you to catch up on as much of the fundamentals of magic as you can. I'm afraid that I have other business to attend to. Professor Flitwick is the Head of Ravenclaw house though, so he should be able to help you with anything you need. You will be expected to do most of your learning on your own," here the Headmaster gave her a stern and piercing look which she returned until he chuckled. "Of course, if you feel at any point that you are unable to learn the first five years of material as well as the sixth in classes (completely understandable) then you may let one of your professors know and we will arrange to postpone your OWLs and put you back a few years for your studies. OWLs are usually taken in the fifth year, so technically you're behind anyway. It's to be expected, and it wouldn't make much of a difference if you needed more time, but I really would like to keep you with your peers if I can, and I do believe you will prove yourself a quick study," he winked. "Now, Professor Flitwick is waiting just outside to show you to your dorm, and then he'll meet you in your house common room to discuss which classes you might wish to take."

When I left the office, I met a tiny man...Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw House and Professor of Charms. He took me down a ton of hallways, some of which moved and up some stairs (I got stuck in one about halfway up because he forgot to warn me about a "vanishing step" whatever the point of that is). He told me on the way that the castle had been designed by the founder of Ravenclaw house. When we got to the entrance of the dormitories, there was a portrait, and I realized I hadn't been imagining all of the portraits moving in the halls. It asked us for a password, which turned out to be "Episkey," and then we came to a room decked out in blue with a ton of bronze metalwork. It was late in the day, and the way the sun hit everything, well, I knew I was home, and for a girl who's moved as much as I have, that's more important than you might imagine. There really wasn't time to explore sadly. Professor Flitwick showed me my bed and then we went to the library to check out several books he seemed to feel would be necessary to supplement what he was planning to teach me. Then, he wanted to talk to me about my plans for the future.

"What was your career goal before you learned you were a witch?"

I can't be certain, but I imagine that in that moment I looked like someone had hit me with some sort of spell. I couldn't move. You'd have thought it was rocket science, but it was a fairly simple question. The truth was, I'd never given it much thought. My family was always moving, so I was always adjusting. There just never seemed to be much time for self-reflection, and besides, that was in the future. I know very well about the future, and I just figured it would come to me in time. I _did _know what I didn't want to be. I didn't want to be my parents. I think they're happy, but that life is definitely not for me. They always have their mobiles glued to their ears. They work all hours of the day, probably even while they dream. I'd never had a burning desire to be a workaholic.

"Umm...I don't actually know. Why does it matter?"

Professor Flitwick seemed somewhat taken aback, but he recovered, "Well, the career you plan to pursue determines which courses you wish to take as well as OWLs you'd like to sit. Do you have at least a general idea?"

I blushed then. "No, not really."

He slogged on. "Okay then, we'll just have to teach you the basics, and we'll see what happens, but I highly suggest you start thinking about it. I'll get you some pamphlets on different careers."

After that, Professor Flitwick felt it was necessary to fill me in on some current events in the wizarding world. He explained to me as much as he could about He Who Must Not Be Named. It seems like a mouthful, but I'll take it. The real name doesn't seem much better. He's basically the Muggle equivalent of Hitler I guess. I don't know what that means, him being magical and all. He's only recently come back, but apparently Hogwarts is pretty safe. I figure I'll jump that hurdle if and when I come to it.

The first thing the Professor decided to teach me was flight. I was eager to learn more about how the Weasleys flew around on broomsticks, since that was how I'd found them, so I was a little disappointed that there wasn't any wandwork involved. The broomsticks were magical themselves, so I just had to say, "Up!" and then mount. I was definitely wobbly my first time out, hovering a yard or so off the ground. The Weasley brothers made it look easy. I found it less than...balancing all your body weight on the space between your legs and a two-inch in circumfrence stick that responds to the slightest tilt or bob, I could tell it would take me some time to learn, but I was more than willing to put in the hours.

From there, Professor Flitwick took me to the Great Hall. The nicest thing about the term not being started yet was that he could show me around everywhere. I'm not sure how these kids learn to get around. I'd have been lost without an escort. The food's great though...magically appearing on the plate.

For the rest of the summer, Professor Flitwick taught me the basics of magical theory, charms, wandwork, and what he could about Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potions, the only classes where the Professors who usually teach them were unavailable to help me. There wasn't any Potions Professor yet, and the other two had duties they needed to attend to. The only course he let me drop was Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Hagrid is a huge man with a frightening love of frightening animals. I don't even like cats. I let Professor Flitwick know that I had no intention of working with animals, and that was that. The only non-basic course I take is Divination. I've already gotten a much better handle on the visions. Professors Trelawney and Firenze love to go on about me having "the Sight" or being "a true Seer," but the fact is, it's all very boring in reality. I did get to discuss it with Professor Dumbledore one night. He suggested my skill in Divination probably developed for me over time, since I've always had to be really observant of my surroundings, spending a lot of time growing up in big cities...and taking risks. In the evenings before dinner I would fly around some, and after dinner I study the stars and read my History of Magic text. A couple of nights when I first got to the castle I took the time to explore the dormitories and common room.

It was shocking to me how two months could have made such a difference in my life. Before I knew it, classes were routine, and I was throwing around words like wand, Galleon, and Muggle as if they were everyday speech. I had become accustomed, in two short months, to staircases that moved, pictures that talked, and armor that walked. I'd ceased to bat an eye when my food magically appeared on my plate. I'd long stopped considering the very word magic to be anything magical. Everything just felt...normal...until several hundred other, more experienced witches and wizards arrived into the large castle and began to discuss Quidditch games, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products, Hogsmeade, The Daily Prophet, Ollivander's disappearance, and eventually...the new girl with the green bangs.

For the first time in a long time...I was the new kid. I could tell this Hogwarts thing wasn't going to stop being an adventure...not for awhile.


	4. Sense and Sensibility

**Chapter 4: Sense and Sensibility**

"So hey, you mind if I borrow your hairbrush?" said a small, black-haired girl as she hopped onto my bed and proceeded to rummage through my bedside table, pulling out my hairbrush. She reclined against my headboard then, as she pulled my brush through her short, thick hair. I stared at her for a moment, to which she replied with a cheeky grin, and then I grinned back. I knew instantly that we were going to be good friends, and not just because she was the only person not to gawk at me first thing like all the other students had when they arrived. They're not used to new people, at least not new sixteen year-old new people.

"I'm Orla," said the girl.

"Cassy." I indicated myself with a smirk and a nod.

"Of course. I think everyone here knows your name. So, what do you think of Hogwarts?" Orla wiggled her eyebrows in a way that reminded me of someone asking me if I wanted to go skinny dip with them, which was somewhat disturbing until she busted out laughing at my expression. I laughed too.

"It's kinda cool so far. The classes are kinda tough when you're...oh...fifteen years behind everyone else."

"Not everyone. I didn't find out about magic until I was eleven. My dad's a Muggle. He divorced my mom when she told him she was a witch, and he decided that I was going to take after him, but a few days before my eleventh birthday I did my first magic, and..." she swept her arms around with the universal "here we are" expression.

"Both my parents are still together...Muggles," I said. Orla nodded, as if I had just explained everything.

"So, how is it that you come to magic so late...late-bloomer?"

I chuckled shortly as I plucked my brush away from her and sat across the bed, pulling the brush through my tangles. This was always the tricky part. People want to get to know me, but how much to let them know? You'll pardon me if moving around two to three times a year makes me funny about sharing my life story with people...it just seems like a waste.

"Well, apparently there was some mix-up with the Magic school in America where I was born, but I ran into the Weasleys, and they called Professor Dumbledore, and..." My turn for the "here we are" expression and arm-sweep.

Orla nodded soberly and then she got a grin on her face that screamed of trouble...my kind of trouble. I grinned back. "So, what have you got in mind?" I asked. No words were necessary. She dragged me up from the bed and pulled me out, past the portrait hole, past curfew.

"Have you ever been in the Forbidden Forest?" she asked as she dragged me along. If my eyes got really wide, I think I was entitled. After all, it's the _Forbidden_ Forest. Orla just laughed quietly and continued to drag me along, down a few secret passageways, behind a suit of armor when Professor Flitwick came by on rounds (nearly catching us), and then out a door that I didn't know about, around the castle grounds and to the edge of the forest.

"Orla, I hate to sound like a great, big, old baby, but are you sure this is a good idea?"

She laughed, "Great, big, old baby," and then she dragged me in. Once we got far enough in, the castle disappeared, and Orla lit her wand tip to fend off the darkness. She pointed out a glowing "x" barely visible on one of the trees about twenty feet in front of us. "If we make it to that point, we'll have gone farther into the forest than any of the other students. Well, Draco Malfoy said he's been in further when he had detention out here, but only Slytherins believe him. He has a tendency to exaggerate." Orla smirked and rolled her eyes, "Besides, if it was during detention he was accompanied by a grown-up, and that doesn't count." We walked and tripped our way through about three feet of underbrush before I heard howling.

"Orla, I'm going to have another crybaby moment here, but I just finished reading about Werewolves, and I'm wondering if I should worry."

"Probably."

"Oh...good, well thanks for telling me." We laughed then and continued our way through the underbrush. We finally reached the glowing x, and Orla used the tip of her wand and some spell to erase it. This close, I could see the initials MP, FW, and GW carved just beneath where the x had been. We walked about one more foot and she marked the next tree with a glowing x before carving her initials under it.

"We've officially made it father into this forest than anyone since Fred and George Weasley," she said. She told me the spell to carve my initials, and I put mine next to hers...looking like kindergarten script next to calligraphy.

"How come Fred and George didn't go just a foot further?" I remembered the two hardy, mischievous twins from the Burrow.

"Respect for their mother I'd imagine." Orla shrugged.

I quirked my eyebrow, looking down at my new friend. "Have you met Fred and George?"

She laughed. "No, not respecting her now...respecting her record. I doubt they've even let her know they know, but MP is Molly Prewett...their mother before she married their dad."

My eyebrows had to raise to make room for my bugged-out eyeballs. I somehow couldn't gel the kind, plump old lady who'd taken me wand-shopping with this MP who'd gone into the Forbidden Forest. She'd cowed her children so effectively for breaking the rules; it was difficult to believe she'd ever broken one. Orla just laughed some more before we started to pick our way back through the forest.

"So how did you know about that spot?" I asked.

"Oh," Orla almost blushed. "I overheard it someplace. "You wanna hear a scary story?"

I could tell she just wanted to distract me, but that was understandable. We'd only just met.

"Sure," I answered before I could think it through.

Orla grinned. I imagine I looked horrified.

"During my first year here, there was this wing on the third floor that was off-limits. The rumor is that there was a three-headed dog there, guarding something valuable. Well, you've seen Harry Potter right? He's probably the best-known person around here besides you. Him and his friends went to the off-limits floor, escaped from the three-headed dog, and then faced several challenges set up by our _teachers_. They could have been killed. The youngest Weasley boy, Ron, he got clocked by a giant chess piece, and when Harry went, all alone to the final challenge..." Orla sucked in a deep breath, building the suspense, "he met He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in person...well, sorta. He was actually _possessing_ one of our professors."

I guess I didn't look impressed enough because Orla stopped and stared at me. "That's a true story you know."

"I believe you. I'm sorry. I'm sure it was very frightening."

Orla laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "Eh. I probably just suck at telling stories."

The next morning when I woke up, Orla was waiting for me, or more accurately, bouncing at the end of my bed.

"Hey girly! You ready for class? We have Defense Against the Dark Arts together, remember? Up, up sleepy!"

I think I managed some sort of grunting/groaning sort of a response, but I'm not sure. Fortunately for me, Orla appeared to be a morning person, and she had my bag ready when I exited the bathroom. We walked together to Professor Snape's class. Well, maybe Orla dragged me a little. Professor Snape's class was not my favourite. Lots of the students dislike his class because Professor Snape is a very surly person who likes to bully students for some unknown reason. I just find the subject matter incredibly boring. I guess I don't entirely understand the point. Professor Flitwick explained all about the Ministry and Aurors to me. Seems like Wizarding World protection is their job, and that's definitely not something I'm interested in. Flitwick insists that Defense is important for me to learn though, so he won't let me drop it. Now History of Magic, _that's _a subject I can get into, though oddly, no one else is interested. Yes, the professor is pretty dry (and perhaps I'm underestimating), but the subject matter makes up for it. Maybe these kids have just been around it so long they're jaded, but come on! Goblin Wars! Who wouldn't be into learning about that? It's kind of important for me to figure out as much as I can about this new world I've fallen into anyway.

"Cassy...helloooo!" Orla waved her hand in front of my face. "Class is over and Snape is going to see you spacing here any minute. It's actually sorta miraculous he didn't call on you. You've been spacing like it's History of Magic for the past ten minutes!"

"Hey! I take offense at that! History of Magic is actually a really cool subject!"

Orla just laughed at my declaration, apparently assuming I was kidding. "Hey, are you going to Hogsmeade later?" she asked.

"Er...I hadn't really thought about it. I've never been. Is it cool?"

Orla's mouth dropped open, but she recovered quickly. "Well then, you're definitely going. You have to try Butterbeer."

"Okay, I guess I'll come," I tried to act like she was twisting my arm, but I failed.

When we arrived in Hogsmeade, it took a lot of effort for me to reign in my wandering ways and stick with Orla. I was too used to being on my own. First, Orla dragged me to Zonko's joke shop. I should have known it was a bad idea to enter a place like that with me in tow. As soon as we walked in the door, she found a whizzbang to terrify me with, and shortly after that, she had me shake the most realistic fake hand ever…blood gushed and everything as it "tore off." That was the entire ten minutes as we window-shopped. Orla ended up purchasing something too, and I eyed the bag warily all the way to The Three Broomsticks. We sat at one of the few available tables, across the room from one of the Weasley boys…Ron I think it is, the one who always hangs out with the Harry Potter kid.

"What may I get for you young ladies?"

"Two butterbeers. Thank you," Orla responded quickly. I just nodded my head in agreement. I'm glad I did. The butterbeer came out, and it was heavenly. Thankfully, it wasn't at all like beer. I'd had enough of that stuff when I lived in New York City to last me a lifetime. One of the beauties of the city had been the ease of getting a fake ID. Butterbeer was more like a cream soda. It was delicious, sweet, and it gave Orla and I the giggles as we laughed at each other's foam mustache.

Little did I know, sitting there laughing with my new friend, soon something was going to happen that would take all semblance of merriment from the atmosphere. Orla and I were walking outside and giggling about some nonsense when I saw some of those kids I met when I found out I'm a witch. They were all stopped, looking horrified into the sky where a girl was hovering in mid-air. At first, I thought she might be levitating or something, but then she screamed. She screamed like the world was ending. I had a nearly irresistible urge to check behind me, look at the sky and make sure it was still in place. I wanted to rush up and help, but I didn't know them, and what could I do?

I'm way out of my depth here.


End file.
